Ezra
Ezra sniffed.
Clubs were despicable. They were always way too cramped. Human bodies that were so close to one another, they generated a cloud of sweaty heat which tasted salty on the tongue.
The songs were always the latest trending tunes, thumping in a beat that had been reused so many times the producer in Ezra would have trashed that shit in the can.
The club always amped up the song so loud that his eardrums rang in protest, the bones in his body vibrating with the beat. It was impossible to talk in the club. Ezra could barely hear his own voice. The manager had to yell into a megaphone to announce the next DJ on the floor. He screamed, red-faced with popped veins on his neck.
Ezra hated the stench of sweat and body odour that burned in the air, masked by the drafts of fresheners that the staff members sprayed over the air conditioners to keep the place smelling expensive. Sweat was one thing. Body odour to this degree and amount?
Fuck.
He could still smell it despite the cloying artificial sweetness of the freshener. His nose had always been excessively sensitive. He was the first one with a mask when there was a particularly bad haze in a country. The first one to wince at the stench of a fart from one of his best friends.
He didn't like clubs. But he was here because the sounds and smells consumed him. The atmosphere drowned out his thoughts. Sometimes, he got pleasure out of his visits. He tasted it from desperate females looking for rich wealthy cock.
He'd been offered a place in the VIP lounges. A place that sold sex and girls like a commodity on the market. But he'd denied it more than once. Once he entered the black market, it would be difficult to escape.
He preferred skimming at the edges of the darkness. He preferred watching humans lose themselves in the strobe lights and intoxicating drinks. Each one looked as if they'd spent hours on their appearances. Guys dressed in too many layers of awkward clothing just to look classy. Girls with fancifully curled hair and thick slabs of shimmery makeup.
It was sad. Ezra snorted, taking a swig from his glass. These people were all just a walking beacon of insecurity. They were eyeing one another in cages of self-perceived judgement when it was all just in their heads.
One's worst enemy was always one's self.
He'd learnt that from being in his industry. An idol would fall if he believed the words of his haters. He would only crumble if he accepted the poison from those snakes. Ezra was no stranger to that poison. He had drunk it all his life. Even now, sometimes he let those words get to him.
Ezra critiqued but just like those insecure fools on the dance floor, he too was another product of a judgemental society.
Still, he remained perched on the bar because he liked the taste of vodka on his tongue, burning away at depressing life thoughts. He sat at the bar downing drink after drink, just enough to numb but not enough to intoxicate.
He hated getting drunk, it released too many emotions and exposed all his vulnerabilities.
His eyes flickered upwards and they drew to the waitress dressed in a uniform a little too short to be safe. The top was classy and the club's logo was printed on her blazer. It was decent in length, with long sleeves and high collars.
It would be appropriate if one ignored the dark see-through slits that exposed her back. Nevertheless, the pencil skirt proved to be a problem. The skirt hitched up her thighs whenever she bent to collect the empty drinks on the tables.
She was a soft peach colour, pale in the glow of white light so her creamy thighs seemed to easily reflect the bounces of light. He caught a glimpse of something black as the skirt rode up her hips and then she was standing to pull the material down to cover her dignity, her cheeks flushing into a soft pink.
She was his type. Ezra bit his lips, licking at the seams to break apart sticking skin. She was the kind with a soft innocent air about them. He liked to break those types, liked to paint them white with his cum and make them scream in pleasure.
Her eyes. He squinted for a better look. They were a very pretty, soft hazel hue despite how dark the club was. Exotic but definitely Asian from the baby-like softness of her cheeks and the squish of her button nose. She was too young and he could tell that she was fresh meat despite the makeup that she tried to use to mask her age.
Adorable.
Young.
Sweet.
Innocent. Maybe? That one was hard to tell.
She definitely did not belong here in the sea of electric eels yearning to paralyse her forever. His fist clenched and he watched as she strode across the area.
He felt like an asshole, a pervert because whenever she bent over he found himself stealing glances at her revealing thighs. He caught glimpses of safety shorts and later traces of red panties in better lighting. The fabric of her shorts clung tightly to the curves of her ass.
It even dipped into the slit of her plump pussy.
Ezra cursed softly under his breath, pressing the back of his hand to his lips. He didn't like it because if he could see her panties then others could see it too.
She was uncomfortable in that skirt and he could tell. Her false confidence faltered whenever some stupid drunk ran his hands over her bare legs. It was disgusting and he wanted to pull her away. Something dark and sour spilt from his chest and it spread across his frame.
He wanted to leave.
He was not interested in getting laid. His status promised difficulties. Even getting here without his manager, Kangmin, to babysit him had been near impossible. The only reason why Kangmin hadn't objected to his solo outing here was that the club's owner was a friend and he would cover Ezra's ass.
Anger burned in his veins when he saw the way the two drunken men, rich children of business CEOs, stared at her with lust in their eyes. He didn't like the way their touch lingered too long on her skin when she handed them their drinks. Drinks that they ordered again and again but did not touch.
They made it a point to get large bottles that she struggled to open and pour into their cups. They ogled at her rising skirt as she tipped drink after drink into glass cups that they tossed aside the moment she left.
Ezra stayed, watching her from the bottom of his bucket cap. He was unable to tear his eyes away from her as he nursed his drink in his hands. He stayed because he caught the two men lingering in the shadows as the club emptied. He stared when they left the club. A quick drive around the area allowed him to catch a glimpse of the two men hanging out at the corner, clearly waiting for her.
Fuck.
Ezra slowed his car down to a halt, staring at the entrance of the club and wondering whether or not it was worth it to even do this. He could tell the club manager, but he knew for a fact that this club didn't take care of their girls. It appeared legal but in truth, they ensnared unknowing females and used them as toys for rich customers.
The VIP lounges were there for a reason, each more insidious than the next.
He waited in his car, idly penning down song lyrics on his phone. When he caught sight of her stepping out of the club, he pondered over his next move for a full minute, fingers drumming on the steering wheel. But when he spotted the two men heading her direction it didn't take him another second to think.
He drove to her and stepped out of the car. The tires created a screeching sound on the road as they protested at the forceful stop. She was surprised, stepping back quickly as if the safety of the pavement would protect her.